All Smiles and Sunshine
by RLS
Summary: AU. Ashley knew Spencer for only a year, but never summoned the courage to tell her that she loves her. She falls apart knowing she can't have her, and not knowing what else to do, she leaves California completely in an attempt to start her life over without her. Rated T for now, might change in later chapters.
1. A Prologue of Sorts

**A/N: 'Kay, so, this is just a little something I decided to try to get myself motivated to start writing again. I'm really starting to miss it. I'm not even sure if I'll be going anywhere spectacular with this story, but I guess we'll find out.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. God help us all if I did.**

My life used to be interesting.

I take time out of every day just to remind myself of that.

I had everything I could have ever possibly wanted, and then some. The best part was that it was all practically handed to me on a silver fucking platter, and for a long time, I thought I was happy with it that way. I thought I was happy with my fancy-ass car, my million dollar mansion and endless supply of riches. I thought I was happy with the fact that I could walk into a room and within 2 minutes (less than that, most of the time), I would have men and women alike throwing themselves at my feet and _begging_ to take me home.

God, was I ever wrong.

She came out of nowhere.

It hurts me way too much to even say her name anymore, so I hope you don't mind that I'm going to do my best not to. I don't really want to get into details at the moment, either. I'm just going to say that she changed me in more ways than I thought were possible. I don't think she even meant to, but she did. I was never even technically _with_ her, yet before I knew what was happening I found myself belonging to her. We never had sex or even _kissed_ for that matter, but I was still hopelessly attached to her, and that's a hell of a lot more than I could say about the girls I actually did sleep with.

I tried many, many times to tell her how I felt about her – or at the very least, _show _her – but I never could. There was always something in the way. That something was always in the back of my mind screaming at me about how fucking horrible I would be for her and how much I didn't deserve her. There were plenty of times that we would be at my house, in my bed, her head in my lap and my hand running absentmindedly through her hair, that I would open my mouth and let everything start to pour out right before I would bitch out and stop myself. I tried more times than I can count that year, but I never did manage to get it out. I don't think she ever had a clue.

Now that I think about it, it's been almost 4 years since then. So, where am I now? It's 10pm, and I'm clocking out of my shift. Yeah, that's right, I fucking _work_ now. Oh, and it might also be important to mention that I moved from L.A. and now live on the opposite side of the country in Baltimore.

I'm just going to try to make a long story short, okay? After coming to the brutally painful realization that I was no damn good for Her and I was never going to have the joy of calling Her mine, I hit the bottle. Hard. I don't think there was a day after I realized it that I wasn't under the influence of hard liquor or some sort of illegal drug. I thought maybe I could somehow get fucked up enough to completely erase her from my mind and start over, but of course, it never worked. I guess I had it coming when my raging bitch of a mother decided that she wasn't dealing with it anymore, and literally _threw_ me out of the house. She threw a couple of my personal belongings out the door with me before slamming it shut and locking it, and no matter how loud I screamed or how hard I banged on the door, she wouldn't let me back in. For the first time in my life, I had nothing – not even a place to fucking live. I guess I could have gone to Her house and crashed there, but that stupid voice in the back of my head wouldn't stop telling me it was a bad idea and that she wouldn't want me there. Her parents hated my existence anyway. I could have gone to Aiden's too, but I didn't want to burden him. I'd already done it enough as it was.

That night I ended up passing out on a park bench, not even remembering how I got there. I checked my pockets. All I had was my half-charged phone, four crumpled $1 bills along with some change, and my driver's license. Great, I didn't even have my keys. Oh, and it seemed I had an extra shirt too, because I was using it as a blanket. The next thing I remember, I was breaking down in tears, feeling totally and utterly lost and alone. Once I regained my composure, I pulled out my phone and called my sister, Kyla. I had almost forgotten about her. Was she even at home when my mom kicked me out?

She told me she was. She had heard the whole thing go down, and afterwards, while I was stumbling around outside looking for a place to pass out, she ended up packing her things, telling my mother a thing or two and then leaving. She found my keys and took my car, and at that moment she was driving around looking for me. Oh, good.

She picked me up at the park and we went back to the house, silently thanking the heavens that my mother wasn't home when we got there. I think we both understood that there was no way we could stay there anymore. No words were spoken as we went into our rooms and packed up before getting back in the car and taking off.

She asked me where I wanted to go, and I told her anywhere but here. I just couldn't fucking deal with it anymore. This damn city and the people in it were going to be the death of me if I stayed. More specifically, _She _was going to be the death of me. I was so tired of the waiting, the false hope, and the self-loathing that came with it.

"Did you wanna say goodbye to Spencer first?"

God fucking damnit all to hell. She said her name, and I remember physically wincing. I squeezed my eyes shut as I growled out a hateful "no". She apologized, saying it slipped out, and then the next thing I know she's suggesting that we move in with her mother in Baltimore. Under different circumstances I would have told her no and thought she was crazy, but at the moment, I didn't give a shit where we went as long as it wasn't anywhere near here.

And that was that. Using the only money we had, we booked a flight to Baltimore the next day. We moved in with her mom. Within a couple months we both had jobs, and within a few more months, we decided we had enough money to move into our own two bedroom apartment. And now, here we are today, both working 40+ hours a week to pay our somehow ridiculously expensive rent. It's hard, but we manage to get by, even if it is just barely.

The adjustment from my life in L.A. to "normal" life was actually a hell of a lot easier than I thought it would be. I sure wasn't used to working for my money, but I knew I needed to if I hoped to not spend the rest of my life sleeping on random benches in random parks.

I wish I could say that I was over Her by now, but I'm not even going to attempt to lie. I'm not. Not in the least. I spend almost every night lying awake in bed, staring at her highlighted name on my phone with my finger resting on the send button. Four fucking years later, and I've still never pressed it.

I don't know how Kyla puts up with me, honestly. I haven't been the "old" me ever since the day I met Her, and I highly doubt I'll ever be again. Kyla goes out every weekend; I don't. Kyla actually has friends; I don't. Kyla is actually looking for love, and I'm, well…not. I know that She is the reason why, but what I _don't _understand is why I can't seem to get the fuck over her.

Okay, whatever, at this point I'm just beating a dead horse. It's in the past now anyway, right? Maybe one day I'll finally have myself convinced of that. Back to reality. Where did I even space out anyway? Oh, okay, I'm in my car. Thank God no one could see how hard I was just staring into nothingness.

Now that I'm back to the real world, I reach into the right pocket of my khakis, pull out my pack of cigarettes and light one, taking a long drag. I started smoking after I moved here for some reason. I guess the burn in my throat and the horrible taste give me something else to concentrate on besides Her, and hey; I'm all for that.

I take another drag as I pull out my phone to check the time. Fuck. It's 10:28. Kyla got off work the same time I did, and I should have already picked her up by now. Great, now I'll probably have to listen to her complain the whole ride home. That's just what I need right now.

I speed as fast as I can to the ice cream shop where Kyla works and quickly spot her, standing right outside the door with her arms crossed. I pull up right in front of her, and she makes eye contact with me before rolling her eyes (to make sure I know she's angry, of course) and finally walking over and getting in the car.

"Sorry?" I tell her sheepishly as I shift into drive and pull off.

"I know, Ash. It's fine." she tells me, but her arms are still crossed, so I know she's just saying that. Whether she realizes it or not, Kyla crossing her arms is pretty much a dead giveaway that she's pretty damn annoyed.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Because, Ash, this isn't the first time you've done this. I know exactly what you were doing." she answers quickly without even thinking, and it catches me a little off guard. "Plus you smell like an ashtray, which gives it away anyway." At that, I clench my jaw and glare at her.

Ugh. She knows me a little too well.

The rest of the ride home is silent. It's pretty much silent after we get home, too. Kyla goes straight into the bathroom to take a shower, and I flop straight onto the couch to watch TV until I fall asleep, which probably won't be any time soon. Not after today.

"Are you ever gonna be okay, Ashley?" I jump at the sound of a voice, and my eyes snap up from the TV and see Kyla standing there in a towel. Duh. Who else would it be?

It takes me a couple seconds to finally answer her. "I don't fucking know, Ky. I just…I really don't."

She sighs, sitting down next to me on the couch. "You can't be like this forever…"

And for some reason, that makes me laugh.

**A/N: Before you ask, no, this isn't going to be a oneshot. It's going to be a multi-chapter story, but right now, I'm not exactly sure how many.**

**Welp, reviews are greatly appreciated. The more reviews, the more motivated I am to give the next chapter ;) **


	2. Fancy Meeting You Here

I loudly sigh as I get to work and pull into the first empty parking spot I see. Not only is it almost 7 o' clock in the damn morning and I'm the farthest from a morning person, but I'm not even exaggerating when I say I'd rather drive my car off a cliff than work here.

Unfortunately for me, it was the best I could do. I must've applied to at least twenty different places, but this one was the only one that ever called me back. Even then, it was only because they were desperate, so they really didn't care about the fact that I didn't have any prior experience.

In case you're wondering, it's a small coffee shop, located off of one of the busiest streets of the city. It pays well enough and I know that there are harder jobs out there, but trust me - when you have to deal with bitchy business people rushing you to make their coffee before they're late for work, you'll quickly start hating humanity. I never really liked humanity much anyway, so this job sure isn't helping anything.

Just thinking about what I'm going to have to deal with today makes me want to turn the fuck around and go home. I actually contemplate it for a second or two, but I know I can't. Not if I hope to make rent _and _not starve to death this month.

Reluctantly, I get out of my car, lighting a cigarette on the way out, and then make my way toward the shop. I'm going to need my nicotine fix early if I hope to have a chance of surviving the day. I inhale deeply, breathe the smoke out through my nose and then sigh contently; reveling in the head rush it gives me. Honestly, this is the only enjoyable part about smoking. I can't say that I particularly enjoy the part about having rat poison and carpet glue in my lungs.

"Mornin', Ashley," A masculine voice from across the parking lot snaps me out of my trance, and I turn to see Riley, my co-worker. I give him a small smile and a friendly wave, stopping so that he can catch up to me. Flashing a smile, he jogs up, bumping me playfully on the shoulder when he reaches my side.

I snicker and shove him back. "Morning, asshole."

Even I have to admit that Riley is pretty cute for a guy. He's tall (about 6'2", so he literally _towers_ over me), kind of beefy (not nearly as much as Aiden was, but he still has a nice amount of muscle), and he has a sweet, sensitive-looking face that only a mother could love. His shaggy brown hair hangs down his face and halfway covers his eyes, which are a gorgeous shade of blue. I'm a total sucker for blue eyes, but his definitely aren't the prettiest I've seen. They come in about second place.

Even though he can be downright annoying sometimes, he's honestly a pretty good guy. He's the closest thing to a friend that I have here, and he actually makes an effort to talk to me or cheer me up. He's a total flirt, though. I figured that out pretty quickly. My first day of work started with him being incapable of taking his eyes off of me, and ended with him asking for my number. I guess he wasn't really expecting my answer to be, "no thanks. I prefer the vagina", because his eyeballs nearly shot out of his head and his jaw hit the floor. I still laugh about it to this day.

He pretends to be offended at my 'asshole' comment before jokingly asking me, "So how's the cancer coming along?" Referring to the lit cigarette in my hand, of course. I glare at him.

"Oh, shut up. I hear enough about it from Kyla," I tell him before lifting my hand up and taking an especially long drag to spite him. He chuckles.

"Wow, someone's a little irritable today," he jokes again and pokes me in the ribs, and I snicker again, shoving his hand away. Any other guy touching me would have earned themselves a swift kick to the balls, but this is Riley we're talking about. I know him, and he's harmless.

"I'm irritable every day," I remind him with a shrug before dragging on the last bit of my cigarette and flicking it away in some random direction. Looking in front of us, I notice the long line of people leading into the store, and I loudly groan. "…especially on the days that I have to be here."

"It's only eight hours, Ashley," he tells me. I know he's trying to make me feel better, but come on, _only_ eight hours? At this place, it might as well be eight years. "It'll be over before you know it."

"It better be," I reply dryly as I open the door to Hell (which has a cute little bell, by the way) and step in.

Just like I predicted, work was going by unbearably slow. Whenever I would think a good amount of time had gone by, I would look at the clock to discover it had only been a few minutes. Not that I should be surprised – it always dragged on like this.

Anyway, it's now noon, which means two things; both of which make me a little bit happier. It's time for my lunch break, and my shift is half over. Hooray.

Since Riley and I are working the same shift today, his lunch break is at the same time as mine. He follows right behind me as I take off my hat and apron and walk straight outside for a smoke. I sit down at one of the tables we have set up outside, and he sits down across from me, giving me a smug look that I immediately recognize. Ugh, I'm _definitely_ not in the mood for this right now-

"What about her?" he suddenly asks, pointing to some random girl across the street. Remember what I said earlier about he can be downright annoying sometimes? Yeah, this is why. He's always trying to set me up, convinced that I'll 'stop being so bitchy once I have a girl', and I hate it. For obvious reasons.

"She's okay," I deadpan, not even removing my eyes from my Blackberry to look at whoever it is he's pointing at.

"You didn't even look!"

"Don't have to," I tell him, and he shoots me his trademark 'you've got to be kidding me, Ashley' look. What can I say? I get it a lot.

"You really need to get over this other girl, Ash. It's been _years. _Don't you think you've tortured yourself long enough by now?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, letting out an angry sigh. He's right, of course, but I'm sick and tired of being told what I already know. I'm not ready to move on yet – I don't care how long it's been. I'll get over Her by myself. I don't need to fuck a random stranger to help me do it.

I almost open my mouth to tell him that, but I keep it shut and choose to ignore him instead. I think he knows that his comment struck a nerve, because he's suddenly quiet too - and trust me when I say that Riley is never quiet. We sit in an awkward silence, with me chain-smoking three or four cigarettes (I wasn't counting), and him staring across the street and occasionally shooting me a sympathetic look that I catch him doing out of the corner of my eye. I can't bring myself to make eye contact with him right now. Now that She's on my mind, the only thing I can focus on is my phone as I scroll through my contacts list and stop when I reach her name. I let out a quiet sigh, allowing myself only a few short seconds to stare at the seven letters that have been the bane of my existence for the past four fucking years before angrily shutting off my phone and shoving it back in my pocket. Riley looks over to me as I rest my face in my hands, trying my best to keep myself from having a full-blown mental breakdown.

He reaches across the table and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Look at me Ashley," he tells me, and I reluctantly do as I'm told. "I'm sorry I brought it up, okay? I just really, really hate seeing you so upset all the time and I hate even more that I can't do anything to help."

Ugh, damn him and his heart of gold. "I know, Riley," I sigh out quietly. "I just…need to get over it on my own. I'll be okay eventually."

That last part is a bit of a lie, because there's no way I can say for sure how long this is going to last. For his sake, though, I don't dare tell him that.

He nods in understanding just as an alarm on his phone goes off. He digs it out of his pocket and looks at the screen. "Well, Ash…break's over," he tells me as he flips his phone closed, and I can't help the loud groan that escapes me. The last thing I want right now is to go back in there.

"Hey, you're halfway done," he reassures me with a smile. "Plus, there's nowhere near as many people in there as there were this morning. I've only seen one girl go inside since we've been out here."

"Thank God," I answer him as I get up from my chair, reaching my arms up into a long and overly-dramatic stretch. "Let's get this over with," I tell him before trudging back to the front door and going inside, holding it open for him behind me.

We both clock back in from our break, and as I'm in the back putting my uniform back on, Riley comes running up to me a little too eagerly. Oh God, what could this possibly be about?

"Hey, remember that girl earlier from the across the street? The one I was pointing to?" he asks me, and I look at him blankly, shaking my head.

"Um, no. I didn't even look at her, remember?"

"Well now's your chance to, because she's sitting in the lobby. She's _really _hot, Ash, and she's sitting by herself, so she's _gotta _be single –" I cut him off there by punching him in the arm.

"We _just _got done talking about this, Riley," I warn him before he can take this too far again, and he gets the message. He puts his hands up in front of him defensively before slowly backing away from me and turning to put his own uniform on.

"Suit yourself, then," he adds quietly, and I narrow my eyes at him. He's really fucking pushing it now, but I choose not to comment. I walk away from him and back behind the counter, taking my spot at the register.

I can see that Riley was right. There is only one person sitting the lobby – a girl, but her back is facing me, so I can't see what she looks like. All I can see is her bright blonde hair. I still don't care much for seeing her face though, so I quickly look away and pull out my phone to check Facebook. My manager isn't here today, so naturally, I'm going to take full advantage of that.

A few minutes go by with no customers. I haven't seen Riley, so I assume he's hiding from me in the back room to keep himself from saying anything else stupid about the girl in the lobby. Heh. Smart guy.

Suddenly, Blondie gets up from her table and approaches the counter. I don't acknowledge her approach at all, half because I really don't feel like making anything right now and half because I _still_ don't care for seeing how hot she supposedly is. My eyes remain glued to my phone, even as she gets to the counter and places both of her hands on it.

"Hi. What can I get for you." I say nonchalantly, and more so like a statement than a question.

"Yeah, I'll take a _fucking_ explanation, Ashley Davies."

My eyes shoot up, and the face I'm met with causes me to abruptly drop my phone to the floor as my entire body goes numb and the breath leaves my lungs in the form of a loud whimper.


	3. Not Yet

**I am currently sitting at home, sore and hungover after a week of insanity. So.. I figured I'd give you guys another chapter. Enjoy :)**

I was completely frozen.

There She was, leaning on her arms on the counter, face-to-face with me for the first time in the four longest years of my life, when not even 10 seconds ago I was busy convincing myself that she was gone forever and I needed to let her go. Her eyes are locked on me and her fingers are beginning to drum impatiently, waiting for me to start spilling, but…where the fuck do I even _start?_ I had so much to say to her – so much to confess, so much to apologize for, so many questions to ask…and all I could manage to do was stand there, staring at her like she had three heads or something. Great. This is going well.

I briefly glance down at her hands that are still on the counter, which she has now balled into fists. I look just long enough to notice that she is visibly shaking, and whether it's because she's contemplating punching me in the face or because she's as terrified as I am, I can't tell.

"_Ashley_," the harshness of her voice makes me noticeably jump, and my brain begins scrambling frantically for _something _to say to her. My mouth must have opened and closed half a dozen times before anything actually came out.

"You…but, how did you…"

"_No_," she said firmly, shutting me up instantly."You don't get to ask me _anything_ yet, Ashley," The tone of her voice alone is enough to send cold chills throughout my entire body. I'm pretty sure I'm hyperventilating at this point, and my bottom lip is suddenly refusing to stop quivering.

God, help me. Strike me down with a bolt of lightning. Make her disappear. Make _me _disappear. Drop a fucking grand piano on my head like they do in those old cartoons. I don't care; just _get me out of here. _I can't even force myself to look at her now. Instead, I'm looking at everything but – the walls, the ceiling, the suddenly-interesting patterns on the counter in front of me. I honestly don't know what I'm trying to accomplish, I'm fucking caught and there's no way out of this.

"Ashley," she says my name for what must be the hundredth time already, although much less harsh this time, and it takes all of my effort to respond and to focus my eyes on hers. Hers are noticeably softer; the light blue color that has been practically burned into my brain since the very first time I saw them is suddenly back, replacing the anger that was there just a few seconds ago. I'm taking this as a good sign for me – looks like I might actually survive. Our eyes remain locked on each other's for a few quiet moments before she breaks the contact, hanging her head and heaving a sigh before returning her gaze to me. She whispers in a deep, monotone voice, "Just give me one good reason."

Damn. Even though I saw that one coming from a mile away, I still cringe.

I know she deserves the truth, but at the same time, I know I can't give it to her - at least not yet. It's virtually impossible to predict how she'll react to it all. It's just too risky – not to mention that this is all happening _so fast_ that I still don't think it's sunk in yet that she's standing right in front of me.

There's just no fucking way that I'm ready for this. Any of it.

"I can't tell you," the lamest excuse in the book flies out of my mouth before I even know what I'm saying. Her eyebrows furrow slightly and she purses her lips.

"Right," she says, nodding her head and stepping back from the counter before turning her back to me. She runs a frustrated hand through her hair before quietly adding, "I'm not sure why I expected to hear anything different from you, Ashley."

"You don't understand."

…Did she just laugh?

"Don't give me that shit, Ash!" she suddenly yells, whipping back around to face me again and catching me completely off guard. I take a small step back from her in shock. "You're the one who doesn't understand! Not everything is about you! Not every decision you make only affects _you_! Not even fucking close!"

My jaw would have dropped if I didn't think I would break down in tears if I moved a single muscle. I want so badly to retaliate and ask her exactly what the fuck she means by that, but my better judgment decides to shine through and I keep it to myself. It's for the best right now anyway. I can't trust what I'll say to her.

A few more seconds of silence go by before she takes in an audible, deep breath, and attempts to talk to me as calmly as she can muster.

"Tell me what I don't understand."

"I can't," I brace myself for another bitch-fit, but it doesn't come. Instead, she sets her jaw and sighs loudly in defeat.

"You know what; fine, have it your way. But we're not done here Ashley. You're going to tell me what your deal is sooner or later," I look at her with wide eyes and start to object, but she abruptly cuts me off before I get a chance, "I didn't spend four fucking years wondering what I did to deserve all of this and then finally find you for you to give me some bullshit excuse. I'm here for the truth, Ashley, and I'm not leaving until I get it. I'm not giving up," she looks me dead in the eyes as she tells me this, and I sigh quietly as I stare back – my eyes conveying to her the words that I've never been able to say. _I'm sorry. I love you. I'm in love with you, I always have been. I didn't know what else to do._

She's looking at me again, waiting for me to say something, but I know that nothing I can possibly say would help anything. The situation is already too intense for either of us to handle and telling her the _real _reason why I disappeared just…would not end well.

"Um…excuse me?" a tiny old woman pokes her head from behind her. Oh, yeah, I'm still working. Shit. "I really do hate to interrupt, but I-"

"It's fine, I'm sorry," she tells the woman, "I was just leaving anyway."

She searches her pockets for a moment, pulling out an old receipt and placing it on the table. She then reaches toward me and pulls a pen from my apron pocket before scribbling something down on the back of the receipt, crumpling it, and throwing the ball of paper directly at me. It hits me square on the cheek before falling to the floor.

…Okay, I guess I deserved that. I probably deserved something a little more deadly than paper, honestly.

"I'm staying there," she nods toward the receipt on the floor, "If you actually feel like talking later, that's where I'll be."

And I watch her wordlessly as she turns away from me, shoves her hands into her hoodie pockets, pulls the hood up over her head and walks straight out the door.


End file.
